Within the grey-black celestial dome, the thunder waterfall that rivaled the heavenly river had disappeared. The mountain on which Muria and others stood had completely transformed, radiating a pitch-black metallic luster, stitch marked with stunning golden veins, intensely dazzling.
In Muria's expectant gaze, a tiny figure abruptly came into view in the empty wilderness. The potent vision granted by the mixed bloodline of the Titans and the Draconic allowed him to discern the figure's appearance.
Greyish white shoulder-length hair, facial features so ordinary they lacked any distinguishing characteristics, a simple garb of hemp, height neither tall nor short by human standards. This was an utterly typical middle-aged man with no distinguishing qualities.
"Is this the human legend who aims to challenge Lord Yaxibeien? He looks so unremarkable." A Titan who saw Ron, the Sword Saint, hovering in mid-air, exuding nothing of his usual aura, muttered.
